


The Killing Moon

by jinx22



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: M/M, Torture, Violence, ambiguous ending, fe3hkinkmeme, hints of romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:08:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,573
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24023368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jinx22/pseuds/jinx22
Summary: For the anon"Whether he is torturing or he is being tortured, I have no preference. Sexual or not doesn't matter. Just want some violence."
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 7
Kudos: 79
Collections: FE3H Kink Meme





	The Killing Moon

**Author's Note:**

> i listened to "the killing moon" by echo & the bunnymen while writing this on repeat! would highly recommend this song.

The voice sounds vaguely familiar, Hubert thinks, as the footsteps grow closer.

The pleading and begging reminds him of someone in particular, he thinks again, while sliding a damp cloth- soaked in a special concoction of his, up his most favourite knife.

The crying grows louder still, and Hubert’s skin prickles with excitement because  _ this  _ was his favourite part of the battle. The aftershock, he likes to call it, where the prisoners would be dragged down to  _ his  _ dungeon for him to have his way with them as long as he gathers the information required.

And they had someone good today, apparently, one of Dimitri’s top supporters, one of his right hand men. Oh, Hubert just hopes it’s that blue haired  _ asshole _ who thinks he stands above everyone else. He would love to tear the man’s smile right off his face, cut into his pretty pale skin and make him  _ feel _ like he so refuses to usually do.

Or the redhead that can never keep his mouth shut, Hubert would have fun keeping his mouth shut for him. 

But then when the doors open and the guards drag the struggling person in, Hubert’s skin crawls. 

Oh, this certainly was a treat.

“Hubert!” Ferdinand cries out as he’s strapped down into the chair, bleeding from cuts over his face and through his uniform, hair half drenched in blood from the side of his head where it had been beaten in. Orange locks once so pretty in a way that Hubert particularly hated, now ratty and unkept like the traitorous scum he is.

“Hubert-- It’s me- Ferdinand--” Ferdinand wrestles with the restraints as the faceless guards bow at Hubert, leaving the room and Ferdinand in his very capable hands. The gingers coughs to his side, the kind that only happens when you’re bleeding internally. Even then, though, he coughs into his shoulder, ever so  _ fucking  _ polite, taking another deep wheezing breath after and trying to struggle his way out from the restraints once more. 

God, he never gave up, did he? He was so annoyingly positive in any situation, even when coming into a dungeon - expecting Hubert to  _ help  _ him just because.. What? They were in the same class once? They had some sort of shared history? Feelings that were erased completely when  _ he _ abandoned them all.

Pathetic.

Hubert carefully places the knife down on the table as Ferdinand calls out to him again, and turns towards him while he flicks his tongue over his bottom lip. 

“Long time no see, hm?” Hubert asks, stepping forwards, rubbing his hands together once. 

Ferdinand coughs again, and this time blood splatters down his chin that he wipes off against his shoulder - only succeeding in smearing it over his lips and cheek. Hubert reaches him, hands moving towards the leather buckles as Ferdinand breaths a soft, _ “Thank you-”. _

Hubert only grunts back, tugging the leather out from the loop to free Ferdinand’s wrists, skin already sore and red .

“I knew you would not hurt me- I told them so-” He chokes out, and up close Hubert can see the tears in Ferdinand’s eyes, the freckles on his cheeks. They weren't so apparent now after spending so long in the snowy hills of Faerghus, even his hair was more brown, the golden streaks from it gone.

It was almost a pity.

His looks were the only thing he had going for him.

He roughly tugs the other arm restraint free, and more tears fall from Ferdinand's eyes in a way that makes Hubert almost,  _ almost, _ feel guilty for what he’s about to do. Only because Ferdinand looks so pathetic and crushed already.

But Ferdinand follows through on what Hubert thought he would do, and immediately takes the opportunity to stand despite on bloody and beaten legs and he steps forwards. 

So Hubert neatly slides his pocket knife into Ferdinand’s lower abdomen.

They both freeze, and although Ferdinand is looking into Hubert’s eyes, Hubert thinks he knows immediately.

How could he not, now that the wound is pooling fresh blood, dripping from where the knife is lodged inside of him onto pretty red droplets onto the floor. Ferdinand coughs again, and this time it’s more or less just blood, dribbling out from his bottom lip as he stands there like he’s  _ surprised _ until Hubert nudges him so he falls back into the hard chair. 

“We were fr-” Ferdinand wheezes, expression pained in a way that Hubert is not sure from the knife lodged inside of him, in a non lethal position mind you, or the betrayal.

“We are not friends.” Hubert replies, leaning forwards to roughly pull the knife out so Ferdinand screams, abandoning it on the ground as he pulls away to head back across to his desk where his assortment of other knives and poisons are kept.

“We grew up t-” he chokes on what Hubert can only guess is his own blood, “t-gether-”

“We did nothing of the sort.” Hubert hisses into the air, picking up a small bottle and walking back across to Ferdinand, his top lip twitching as he takes in the pathetic man in front of him. 

Crying, sniffling. What did he expect? A picnic? For Hubert to undo his restraints and let him walk out the castle with all that information of their layouts, their guards? Allow him to sneak through the castle and collect any data he wanted?

He shakes the little bottle in his hand and with it Ferdinand’s eyes open wider, “Y-you’re going to kill me.” 

Hubert hisses again, hating the conflict of emotions that rise inside of him suddenly, because as much as he would not admit it out loud he and Ferdinand did have a shared history. More complex than any, save her Majesty, that Hubert can recall. For whilst they were  _ not  _ friends, they had done together what only people more than friends would do.

To cope with this sudden inner conflict, he grabs another of his knives and slams it down where Ferdinand’s hand rests on the chair edge - only narrowly missing his fingers and instead letting it sink in the wood. 

“Do not  _ test _ me, Aegir.” He spits, popping the lid of the bottle off and pulling out a handkerchief from his pocket that spills the liquids over. “Answer the questions and you might yet survive this.” 

He leans forwards now, with the wet material, but Ferdinand ducks his head out the way, a sob bursting from his lips. 

“Wh-what is it?!” He cries out and this time Hubert doesn’t play back, fisting a hand in his matted brownish hair and forcing his face still so he can push the cloth over his mouth and nose. 

Ferdinand struggles still, but his restraints are loosening as the poison takes effect, slowing his heart rate and whilst making it easier for Hubert to do as he wishes with Ferdinand’s new sluggish movements  _ also  _ stopping him from dying so quickly. 

Hubert usually wouldn’t bother, part of the gratification and fun of torturing someone coming from watching them struggle but.. 

He tugs the cloth away as Ferdinand’s eyes lid more, still dribbling with tears as he tries to meet Hubert’s gaze. But he’s silent enough now that Hubert can move him about, take his hand - as soft as it is, and hold his knife up to it, the one previously soaked in a poison that will burn as it infects his blood stream. 

He flips Ferdinand’s hand, and presses the tip of the knife into his palm.

“Your army. Where are they planning to attack next?” Ferdinand only shakes his head more, and Hubert scowls and digs the tip of the knife in deeper until Ferdinand sobs again.

“We were  _ friends- _ ” he begs, and the sweet sound of someone pleading doesn’t quite give Hubert the same feeling as it once did, and Hubert  _ hesitates.  _

_ He never hesitates. _

“You were never my frie-”

“You were  _ mine _ . I liked you so much.” He blubbers the words and Hubert forces himself to push the knife in harder until Ferdinand cries out, his voice turning into a scream as the poison starts soaking in. 

“Answer the  _ question _ .”

“I do not know!” He screams it, and tries to pull away which only slices the knife through his palm. “Why are you doing this--?!”

“It’s my job.” 

Hubert suddenly hates this job. The knife presses in deeper, and the dark purple lines where the poison leaks into his bloodstream begin to show up more. “Where are your armies heading next, Ferdinand. Where is Dimitri planning to attack?”

“We  _ kissed-  _ T-the night of the ball-” Ferdinand begs, slamming his head back against the wooden chair while he grits his teeth. “Me and you- we promised if-” his words are broken by a loud cry, “if we met we would not-”

“Well things changed.” Hubert says, and now he feels as if he’s the one poisoned. His chest hurts like it is, the bile in his throat rising as his body tries to rid him of these useless  _ feelings _ . 

“I didn’t know they were going to war-” 

“How could you not?! How could you be that- that incredibly  _ dimwitted _ to not realise the tensions building as you changed--” Hubert yanks the knife from his hand and Ferdinand wails again, the gaping wound oozing blood and purple liquid as his body tries to expel the fiery poison. 

His screams and cries fade into dull sobs that echo in the back of Hubert’s mind as he stands again and begins pacing, a headache forming in the back of his skull. 

“You l- you  _ liked  _ me, Hubert- and you wanted me as much as I you--” comes the blubbering still, and Hubert presses his hands to the cold steel of his operating bench facing away from Ferdinand in an attempt to focus. 

He was such a fucking  _ pain.  _

Because for as much as Hubert loathed Ferdinand for abandoning their team, for abandoning  _ him _ , for being a traitor... those feelings still remained, although buried - buried  _ so _ deep, at the back of his dark, cold heart. 

And he wanted nothing more then to indulge once again because that time he spent at the ball, dancing with Ferdinand and tipsy on red wine was the best night of his life.

_ Fuck _ .

It would be easier if he just killed him now, and then he need not worry about such a pathetic, nuisance ever again. It would be over. 

It would be over, and with one of their best soldiers dead, she would win. 

Glory to Edelgard, in a world that Ferdinand is dead.

He’s about to turn around to deal with it, hand reaching over to grab one of his larger knives - he only needs to slit Ferdinand’s throat and it would be  _ done _ but he’s taken off guard by a strength he must give Ferdinand credit for that hits into his right side. 

Yet he’s not strong enough, for Hubert barely wobbles on his feet as he turns around to look at the man holding his bleeding abdomen with his wounded hand, half bent over and standing there with a fire in his eyes that says he won’t give up.

Hubert hasn’t seen a look like that in a long time.

Ferdinand breathes heavily, and almost looks like he’s about to faint on the spot, but still that optimism remains, that fight deep inside him.

Hubert steps forwards, and Ferdinand steps back, and back again and back until he hits the wall and he scrambles for the door lock - and Hubert allows him to until he  _ almost gets it open  _ before he steps forwards to grab Ferdinand’s wrist and tug it away.

His fingers slide up it, they  _ scratch  _ up and dig in while Ferdinand sobs until he’s sinking his fingers into Ferdinand’s cut up palm whilst holding his other hand with a knife gripped firmly, moving it towards Ferdinand to tap against his cheek, trailing it down slowly while both their hearts thump.

Because he doesn’t want to do this. 

As much as he does, he does not.

He thinks it’s because, although he likes to see the life drain from most people, for Ferdinand… it would just look wrong to see those brilliant orange eyes with no emotion behind them.

And perhaps that’s why he takes longer as he trails the knife to Ferdinand’s neck, trapping him against the wall and trapping his body, perhaps that’s why, as he presses the blade of the knife into Ferdinand’s throat - watching as it bobs, he gives Ferdinand the time to do something. 

And what Ferdinand does surprises him, because he reaches out with a bloodied hand and cradles it against Hubert’s cheek, and slowly draws him in - and Hubert allows himself to  _ be _ drawn in, until their lips ghost each other in what is an even more tantalizing act then killing someone.

Their lips hover, and Hubert can taste Ferdinand’s blood already, can taste the stolen promises and the lies of a happily forever after. 

“ _ Please _ , Hubert.”

But Hubert, like the fool he is, believes him once again, and leans in to capture Ferdinand’s lips with a knife still to his throat, but also with a hand of Ferdinand’s and a hand of his own that thread together in a strange act of security.

Ferdinand shakes under him, so Hubert presses closer until he’s leaning into the wall and covering Ferdinand’s body with his own, letting the knife slice into his neck as he pulls it away, replacing it with a hand that grips until Ferdinand whimpers under him, trying to press closer. 

Their lips press together again in a messy kiss with no rhythm, all tongue and teeth as Hubert sucks Ferdinand’s bottom lip into his mouth and bites on it till Ferdinand whines under him again. 

It’s a much prettier sound than the screams from earlier, Hubert thinks, and in an attempt to draw it out again he sucks at Ferdinand’s tongue, letting saliva and blood dribble down his chin that he happily licks away. The kisses continue down his neck until he reaches the cut that dribbles with blood.

But a swipe with his tongue across it is enough to clean it up, and Ferdinand hisses in what Hubert can only remember as pleasure, the same hisses coming from him that time years ago when Hubert bit deep into his thighs. So he continues, sucking at the wound until his lips are drenched in red and Ferdinand is tilting his hips forwards into Hubert’s thigh.

Hubert presses it up against him rougher, and Ferdinand whimpers once more as he grinds into it whilst Hubert busies himself with biting into Ferdinand’s shoulder until it’s sore with red marks.

Ferdinand sags into him more, tilting his hips up to show an evident bulge in his tight pants that makes Hubert lick his lips, another  _ type _ of feral overwhelming him as his own cock tightens in his pants, heavy with a want Hubert had tried to bury for a long time.

Oh, Ferdinand always did bring out the strangest feelings inside him.

Almost something like hope, impossible not to feel around the man, and something that makes Hubert crave the taste of him even more, so much so that he begins to slide down to his knees, opening Ferdinand’s pants as he does and easily maneuvering one of the mans legs to wrap around his neck and draw him in close. 

Hubert breaths in the deep musky scent, the heat from his cock and balls and the sweat and dirt from a battle creating a perfect meal - mixed in with the bitter taste of blood that Hubert notices too when wastes no time in licking a stripe up Ferdinand’s small cock. It’s thick and girthy but short in length, with a delicious sprinkling of dark ginger hairs that travel up his belly where his shirt has been ripped open by Hubert’s travelling hands.

Hubert did not use the word much, but he would describe the view as perfect.

Ferdinand moans above him, and fists his hands in Hubert’s hair as his chest rises and falls in hard breaths when Hubert takes his cock into his mouth with a hard swallow. He can feel how Ferdinand’s balls constrict where his hand rests, so he takes him deeper, unable to resist the urge to even let his teeth graze along it until Ferdinand is whining with want. 

He continues with his sucking and licking and  _ groping _ while his other hand sinks behind Ferdinand’s thighs, pulling him closer but also finding his hole, still as tight and pretty as the first time Hubert had done this - so many years ago. Ferdinand shakes, but moans, and his chest draws in a deep breath as Hubert forces one finger into him for there was no  _ time  _ right now to search for any oils. 

It must burn, but it’s nothing Ferdinand hasn’t felt so far in the night so he takes it in stride, forcing his body to relax until Hubert can hook a finger into him and fuck it up till it hits his knuckle. Another finger is added, too quickly for Ferdinand to get used to it but there’s a clock in Hubert’s head that tells him they only have so much time and the bottle of liquid from earlier  _ should _ be helping numb it a little bit--

But he doubles the efforts of his mouth around Ferdinand’s beautiful cock anyway, sucking hard and tonguing the tip until he can taste cum as he fucks two fingers up into Ferdinand until the ginger is practically bouncing on them.

And as Ferdinand is garbling on about something above him, Hubert is just able to make out the  _ please put it in, _ so he pulls his fingers out  _ too _ roughly and stands back up, undoing his own trousers until he can just pull his cock out, spit on his hand and pump it a few times before grabbing Ferdinand by the legs to hoist the poor bloodied man up against the wall and line himself up.

They pause, and meet eyes, and Ferdinand is leaning in because of course he is - and he’s cupping Huberts face more gently than anyone has held it in years, and he’s mumbling words Hubert can hardly make out that sounds something like,  _ it’s okay _ , so Hubert takes the moment, as their lips connect, to gently to push up into his tight heat. 

Ferdinand whimpers into his lips as Hubert moans as his cock is engulfed, fitting so tightly and so snug and right but something inside him forces him to go slow, at least until Ferdinand can breathe again. 

But as soon as he gets that slight nod against his shoulder where Ferdinand has dipped his head to bite, he lifts Ferdinand off him before slamming him back down onto his hard cock.

They both moan this time, Ferdinand’s more of a shout that echoes his pretty voice around the room and Hubert’s low as he repeats the motion.

And where Ferdinand’s cock had been sagging it immediatly picks back up, bouncing against his chest and down as Hubert fucks him into the wall the best he can. There’s a mild concern of how much Ferdinand is bleeding again, the hands that hold onto him smearing blood from the opened wound in his palm across Hubert’s neck and face, but it’s nothing compared to the heat that builds in his abdomen.

He hadn’t touched himself for years, so the feeling is so completely overwhelming. And by the way Ferdinand sobs and moans and by the way his cock drips precum across both of their chests Hubert suspects that it’s been a while for him too.

So he doubles his efforts, and holds onto him tighter, one hand groping up Ferdinand’s chest while the muscular redhead bounces on his cock until he can feel himself about to burst from want. 

“I’m gonna-” is all the warning Hubert gets from Ferdinand, before the beautiful man lets out a cry and throws his head back against the wall as he comes in hot streaks; followed soon enough by Hubert who lets go into Ferdinand’s ass, filling him with white cum as he almost short circuits himself from the sheer amount of  _ want.  _

Ferdinand sags into him with a soft few gasps, and Hubert is thankful he has enough strength to continue holding him up, in his half naked glory, and carry him across to his operating table, managing somehow to pull Ferdinand’s pants back up as he does.

Hubert lays him down there, gently allowing his head to rest against the shiny metal beside his operating tools. Orange hair frames his face like a painting, and part of Hubert wishes now he could warm a hot bath for him, bathe him and wash that hair - get him some sunlight, see those freckles bloom across his cheeks. 

And yet even still, with wounds that should be at least tiring him out, Ferdianand’s chest continues to rise and fall in a steady beat. Such a sign of life, something Hubert had not seen for a long time around the dark corridors of the kingdom. 

Perhaps that life is what they needed right now, to win this war.

Or perhaps - as Hubert’s eyes flicker across to the knife beside Ferdinand’s face - the world is offering him a perfect opportunity to end these ridiculous feelings once and for all.

**Author's Note:**

> please leave your kudos and comments! if this fic is well received i might yet write a chapter 2 from ferdinands pov :x


End file.
